


endless line

by EasyBot



Category: Mayday Memory (Video Game), 메이데이 메모리 | Mayday Memory
Genre: Avert your eyes, Domestic Fluff, Drunk Sex, Drunken Confessions, Drunken Shenanigans, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Living Together, Sex, i fucking love these two so much, i hope you're ready for what basically a porn of these two, so kids, they're having so much sex it's not even an exaggeration
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:21:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26421790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EasyBot/pseuds/EasyBot
Summary: I guess I could be pretty pissed off about what happened to me, but it’s hard to stay mad when there’s so much beauty in the world. Sometimes it almost feels like it was too much that my heart is going to burst.I want to live in tomorrow with you in it.━━━━━━━━━━━━ALERT for SPOILER-HEAVY AU!Takes place after the Epilogue and Syd's ending. Heavy on the sexual content.Check author's notes for more detail
Relationships: Dell/Syd (Mayday Memory)
Kudos: 16





	endless line

**Author's Note:**

> **SPOILER ALERT!**  
>  In this AU, Dell is a cyborg instead of a robot. I'm going to explore more details for both Dell's origin and Syd's past that wasn't mentioned in the game. 
> 
> Also this fic is gonna be heavy on the sex. The first chapter got nothing on what I've planned. You have been warned.

Few weeks have passed since his “confession”, and something is definitely changing between them.

Sure, they still have their usual cheeky banter and petty arguments, but now there’s also some flirty undertones slipped in-between her retorts (that he happily returned in favor). There’s also the matter of the new sense of unrestrained familiarity where she allowed him in her personal space—that under normal circumstances, is heavily fortified—where he could even go as far as casually putting his arm around her. She smiled a lot too now—or even better—giggled at his shitty attempt of cracking smooth and witty one-liners he researched just for her. To top it all off, she even went out of her way to buy him stuff that she thought he would like (aside from _that_ goddamn comb). And if he can get just a _little_ _bit_ cockier, he caught her stealing glances at him several times (she would _never_ admit it, but he knows).

To his knowledge, all of these actions are reserved only for _him_. He never saw her allowing the same treatment to any other guys. Not to some insufferable boss. Not to some actor with too much free time. _Only him_. It was almost too much for him to handle that he could barely contain his cheeky grins (much to her chagrin).

But he’s one greedy, ungrateful son-of-a-bitch—not only he’s still not satisfied with the soft affections she’s exclusively given him, but he wanted _her_ in a more explicit way. There was this one instance when there’s nothing even remotely inappropriate happening, yet the sight of her tiptoeing to grab a book from the shelf was just so fucking adorable that _wouldn’t it be so goddamn good to just flip her, pick her up by the ass, and fucked the shit out of her with her back on the shelf_ and that—that sheer force of his own want just ran over him like a goddamn truck took him so off-guard that he had to retreat outside with a quick excuse. He was so damn grateful the late winter winds are cold enough for him to gain his bearings before she got suspicious. Also, could he even do that? He knows that with Dell being a cyborg and all, Hansol explained that parts of her are still human, but _which parts_ did he meant specifically? To make it worse, this was just one of his many, many indecent fantasies (and the unwanted questions regarding _the technicalities_ ). His problem is that he’s now stuck in this limbo between suppressing his desires or making it come true. 

What even are they, anyway?

At least he can say with complete confidence— _contrary to popular beliefs, he doesn’t have much of it, mostly just shoddily-crafted bravados_ —they are more than friends, yet also less than lovers. There seems to be some kind of unspoken agreement between them regarding the nature of their relationship that shouldn’t be discussed further—or at least, not yet. This is a conundrum he clearly couldn’t solve by himself, and as time passes he is getting more desperate for a solution. If there’s anything that could remotely be called a progress, it would be the fact that he sensed that she’s aware of his hunger for her. Every time, he would search for something in her eyes— _Permission? Pass? Can I? Please?_ —and every time, she would look away. He prayed she did it out of embarrassment, rather than fear.

So as of this moment, his only feasible solution is to wait until she’s ready. He needs to make this work. _He’ll do anything to make this work_. If all he needs to do is to stay put like an obedient dog, then so be it. 

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

“Don’t be shy everyone! You can order anything you want! It’s Golden Week!” 

Sitting on their table, the cheery voice of Jeff boomed on the dimly lit _izakaya_ bar. Normally others would’ve reprimanded him for being too noisy in a public place, but considering how crowded tonight is, it seemed to be just in the appropriate range of volume. 

“What do you mean " _you can order anything you want"?_ We already got the all-you-can-eat package, Jeff. Of course we can.” Like clockwork, Dell snarks at her superior’s remarks, making him chuckle. Just like always, she chooses the seat next to him.

“Let him be,” he tells her, sotto voce. “He just wants to act as if he’s some kind of rich and generous CEO treating his employees to a banquet in some swanky restaurant.” 

“That’s… kind of sad, isn’t it?” she whispered back conspiratorially with a chuckle of her own. 

“I don’t know what you two lovebirds are talking about over there, but my ears are burning!” Jeff teases over his shoulder, wagging his brows.

Syd almost choked before Dell immediately retorted him.

“W-What the hell are you saying!? We’re not even praising you!” Dell’s nose flares up as her cheeks turn red. He noted that she didn’t deny the allegations (but neither does she confirm it).

Syd attempted to cover his embarrassment with a cough. While he’s pretty damn sure Dell wouldn’t tell a soul what their real deal is, it seemed that people around them weren't oblivious to the tension between them either. Considering they’re not (officially) going out (yet), he admits it's a bit… awkward.

“Considering how this place got a Golden Week special discount tonight, the mid-winter price coupons you used, and the amount of bonus you distributed three days ago; I’d say you’re not as generous as you think you are, Jeff,” Hansol remarked dryly, gaze still focusing on his work tablet.

“Come ooon…! Can the three of you at least lay off on me when I treated you?” Jeff meekly pleaded, it almost made him feel sorry for him. Almost.

As if on cue, the food and drinks they ordered came. The smell of freshly cooked food combined with various alcoholic beverages are absolutely irresistible towards office workers after their shift. Regardless of their opinions regarding their employer’s magnanimity, they were all devouring the meal with fervor and gusto.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

“Heheheh, this booze ish tasthy!” she slurred, completely inebriated.

Dell has a tendency to be more straight-forward when she’s drunk, but with the way she’s now snuggling adorably in his lap, it seemed this time she’s completely hammered to the point where her sense of shame and better judgment has flown straight out of the window. Others weren't faring so well either; with Jeff snoring on the table and Hansol silently mixing various drinks into an unknown concoction. If the way his thoughts seem to be shrouded in thick fog was any indication, he would also say he isn’t anywhere close to being sober.

“What did they puth in this shtuffh anyway? Dell hasn’t finishud the bottle yet and Dell’sh already shuper whoozy…” she examined the clear liquid on her glass before instantly switching her tone. “But who chares!? Ish tasthed good anyway, right Shyd?”

“Mh-hm.” his answering grunt was low and guttural, like gravel. His subconscious mind supplied him with adequate yet vague responses. The haze made him think slower—he currently doesn’t have the capacity to form a coherent sentence. Not when the fragrant smell coming from the soft hair tucked beneath his chin is sending him into an almost meditative trance. While his left arm supports her back, his right hand has now instinctively squeezing her tight and waist in a rhythm, savoring how soft her body feels underneath his palm.

“Ahahah! It ticklesh! Shtop groping my butt, you big pervert—!” She moved his wandering hand away from her backside, making him whine in disappointment. 

“Heeere! Pat Dell in the head inshtead! She’s been a vhery good girl—!” 

Giddily, she placed his right hand on the top of her head. He gladly obliged by stroking her hair as if she was a cat. Syd could feel little quakes of her laughter rustling underneath his chin as she snuggled even closer, like attempting to bury her petite frame under the cover of his coat. Her knee must've briefly dug into his hip bone because the sudden jolt of pain made him realize in no uncertain terms that Dell’s breasts were squished against his chest. 

His whole body froze, like a statue, and he could feel a familiar white-hot want started pooling into his core. The haze made him think slower, made him think faster, made him fully aware of his cock hardened against his leg—

 _Oh god, oh fuck_ —

Dell yelped when he lifted her away from his lap and unceremoniously plopped her back to her original seat. He reclined helplessly into the corner of his seat, completely and utterly lightheaded while his dick was twitching against the strain of his pants. 

“Hey! What whush that for! You meanie—!” She punched his arm without any real power behind it. He breathed out, his heartbeat drumming on his ears, and trying his best to quell the stiffness in his groin. He was grateful when Dell switched her attention to other members in their group that didn’t seem to care about their antics.

“ _Oooh dear exalted Creator!_ Pleashe permit one of your humble creationsh the bounty of anshwers to her queshtionsh!” 

She playfully refers to Hansol, who has been drinking a disgustingly-colored liquid that he was just haphazardly mixed. His face might be flushed, gaze unfocused and movement sluggish, but after a few beats, Hansol replied to her regardless.

“...Technically, I’m not your <Creator>, per se. What I do is that I modified your body with cybernetics that makes you compatible with robotic enhancements. While I consider you to be one of the most technologically advanced cyborgs out there, you still have the bare minimum of organic parts to be able to maintain basic human functionality—” He explained in a single breath, seeming to be purely on autopilot before Dell cuts him off.

“Cut the crap with the nerdy shtuffh! Tell me why Dell’sh not ash shtrong as before! Why couldn’t she fly in the shky or shoot lashurs anymore!?” Dell wails while she mimics shooting up beams from the palm of her hand. 

“ _Holy shit_ , for real?” Syd suddenly joins their conversation, intrigued by the topic. “Fuckin’ rad.”

“No, she never did. Doesn’t mean I couldn’t install it, but it’s very expensive,” he took another swig from his mug, before continuing. “Regarding your <strength> and <gliding> ability, it’s because you’re currently running on energy-saving mode just enough for you to move around. In order to fully utilize your cybernetics, you need to charge yourself daily using the <power station>. Not just any stations will do either, but ones meant specifically for cyborgs which I have in my place. There’s also the issue of—” 

“Hey Shyd, you geth any of what he’s saying?” Dell whispers, nudging his side. 

“Uhh,” he mutters, earnestly trying to comprehend Hansol’s explanation despite his current state of mind. “Sumthin’ bout chargin’ yer phone or sum shit.”

“Hmm…” She ponders. For one reason or another, Dell took his arm and clung into him again possessively, her breasts smooshed against his arm as she rested her head. “Dell’sh furgot what whush the questionsh…”

_That’s cute as fuck._

“Das cute as fuck.” he blurted out, Syd’s inner thoughts bubbling over because _he just couldn’t take it anymore_. He wanted to feel them, those _goddamn_ _soft_ squishy things—against his hands, his chest, his mouth, his anywhere—under his touch and attention and his Dell-starved eyes, to cup them and stroke them and suck at them with his mouth, with teeth and tongue and—he needs to stop there because the heat he had managed to soothe earlier is now plummeting back to his gut. The fervent _I can’t do this anymore_ was struggling to break from every fiber of his being. How can he break free from this hellish cycle of abstinence? 

_Questions? Oh, he got questions alright_ —

“I got, uh... one needin’ answerin’ from ye, Doc. ‘Bout her bein’ half bot n’ all...” he slurred, trying his best to string his words into something that makes sense in the shortest sentence possible.

“Shoot.”

“Can I fuck her?” Syd’s pointing to the brunette clinging on his arm.

_He was never one for eloquence, all things considered._

"Yeah! Can he!?" 

In all her drunken glory, the cyborg in question chimes in as well

“I don’t see why not.” 

And just like that, Hansol replied with the same candid, unfettered.

Syd blinked, hard. He wasn’t expecting the answer to be so… _painfully_ obvious. _Oh no._ This can’t be that simple—it was something he’s been agonizing for weeks (maybe _months_ , depending on one’s perspective). _There must be a catch somewhere_ —

“Hol’ up, hol’ up. _Hol’ the fuck up…_ ” he grabbed a fistful of his hair, fearing he might pass out if he didn’t keep a tight grip on his skull. “I mean, like… dere’s ain’t gon’ be any prob’? The, _uhh_ — plumbin’s, all workin’?”

“As I said,” he began, a bit exasperated. “a bare minimum of organic parts is needed to maintain basic bodily functions, and visceral organs are an integral part of human physiology so—”

“ _Pleashe, I’m beggin’ ye…_ ” Syd’s head was hurting so much that his eyes are starting to water. “...Jus’ cut th’ chase and dumb it down fer me, Doc.”

Never before he saw someone sigh with so much disappointment behind it.

“ _Yes,_ you can,” Hansol said, in absolute deadpan. “It’s all working. Go to town. I don’t give a _shit_.”

_Well now._

“...Oh.” 

He probably should say something witty. Just for closure.

“ _Nice._ ”

_That’ll do._

“ _Yaaayyy!_ ” Dell cheered as she clapped in childlike mirth, still anchored in his arm. “Aren’tsh you glad, Shyd? I know how long you’vhe been dying to know that!”

Wait, _what the fuck_. 

Her words cut through all the fog and all the bullshit. While he does _suspect_ it, hearing it confirmed hits differently. _She knows?_

“So you did know,” Syd stated because he was sure as hell it wasn’t a question anymore. “...’Bout how I’ve been feelin’.”

“Well, duh.” She said, as matter-of-factly. _Like this doesn’t concern_ _her_ — “It’sh hard not to notish when you’vhe been looking at me like a piesh of meat.”

Syd paused, caught speechless by her tone—something between casual and unaffected, just short of blasé—and found himself tight-jawed and board-stiff, brimming with silent, unexpected fury. Because despite all of his talk of patience and virtue, he admits he was frustrated about how she always avoided him when it comes to the subject of their relationship. 

“ _Why,_ ” something must’ve changed with his tone, because she suddenly whipped her head up to finally look at him, wide-eyed. “Didn’t you say anythin’ ‘bout it?”

“...Well, what d’you want me to do?” she lets go of his arm, avoiding his intense scrutiny. He instinctively clicked his tongue in annoyance— _This shit again._

Syd’s superego was already screaming at him ( _Nonononono, don’t do this. Calm down, you drunkard. She will run away. She will hate you. She will never let you near again. Calm down. Calm the fuck down, you absolute fucking moron_ —), but it’s like he was back when he was a kid— _brash, impulsive, pathetic, selfish, foolish_ —

“ _No_. What _the fuck_ d’ _you_ want me to do!?” He snapped, like an explosion. Not caring where they are or who their audience is. “D’you really ‘spect me to remain _sane_ even if you went all over me like y’did just now!? _For fuck’s sake, woman_ —Yer _killing_ me here! _D’you even care ‘bout how I feel!?_ ”

The words that just came out like a broken dam had proved just how much of a sick bastard he is, with all the sick shit he thought of doing to her. _Now you’ve done it_ —mock his superego— _hope you’re ready for what’s to come._

He saw the shifts on her countenance—from shell-shocked, to hurt, then indignant. She was never one to cower when she’s confronted. 

" _I'm shorry then!_ ” she shouts at him, on the verge of tears. “I won't do it again!"

" _That's not the point and y’know it!_ " he declared, fierce and undeterred. His speech somehow became loud and clear from the sheer force of his rage. "You can't just keep shoving me off every time it gets difficult for you and pulls me back when it's convenient!" 

That was—that was _horrible,_ and so fucking insensitive of him to say—he knew that. ( _He_ was the one who should be understanding, _but so does she_ , his mind argued, vehemently, violently, if she just, if she just _fucking_ —)

Only when Syd saw the tears dripping down her cheeks— _struggling not to cry, hugging her arms around herself, lips quivering as she simply stared at him_ —he realized with a startling jolt the weight of what he had done.

 _Well punk, you just can’t help it, can you?_ —he can hear the slow clapping from his superego, just before the final nail in the coffin— _Do you feel proud of yourself?_

_Not again._

His stomach's churning.

_Not again._

His head feels like it might just split.

_Not again._

He can’t breathe.

“I—” he managed to choke out, with considerable effort. “—need some air.”

(Whether he meant that figuratively or literally, he had no idea.) 

Syd let his feet lead him outside, not caring what the world thought of him at this point—he already declared his verdict ( _Guiltyguiltyguiltyguilty_ —). The night wind hits his face like a bucket of ice water but he welcomes it—wishing for even harsher punishment to befall him right at this very moment. The world is spinning around him and then—

“ _Syd, wait!_ ” her voice echoes from somewhere behind him.

He never ran so fast before in his life.


End file.
